Special Agent Harry Potter
by Poseidonschild
Summary: Harry Potter is the newest member to join the NCIS Team headed by Special Agent Leroy Jethero Gibbs. His team members find him to be an engima, but easy to trust. When Gibbs shows up at work with a package full of books about the elusive Harry Potter the team is shocked to see his furious reaction. What is hidden in the books that Harry is so desperate to keep secret?
1. Chapter 1

Harry rubbed his fingers to his temple and groaned as it did nothing to relieve the tension headache building there. He always got them when he was stuck with a pile of paperwork and no case to break up the monotony. "Ziva do you have any Tylenol?" He asked looking up across the bull pin to his team mate with a pleading look in his eye.

"Sure," she said with her thick Israelin accent. Opening up the top drawer she pulled out a small white bottle and tossed it over to him.

"Does probie have a headache?" Tony asked from the desk next to him. Harry glared at him half-heartedly as he worked open the bottle. "You know research shows that you can relieve headaches by…"

"Have you finished your report, DiNozzo?" A gruff voice asked from behind him as Tony rubbed the spot on the back of his head where his boss had just smacked him.

"Thank you, boss," tony snapped out turning toward the grey haired man. "Actually I did, it's right here," he said handing over his report to Special Agent Gibbs.

Gibbs gave him a slightly annoyed expression and slapped the file down on his desk. "How about you Potter?"

"Almost finished," Harry informed him as he tossed the Tylenol back over to Ziva and then went back to typing on his computer. There was a moment of silence broken only by the rattling of keys and the rustling of paper, until something heavy was dropped onto his desk. Harry looked at the brown package and then his gaze traveled up to his boss meeting his stony glare.

"Care to tell me what this was doing on my porch, Potter?" He asked as he leaned down onto Harry's desk.

"I would guess that the delivery man left it there," Potter said cheekily unable to restrain himself from making the comment.

"Well yeh think Potter?" Gibbs snapped with annoyance.

"Then why did you ask?" Harry asked, the picture of innocence. Everyone was afraid of Agent Gibbs, but Harry just couldn't resist the digs he sent the boss's way.

Gibbs glared at him and then pulled out a book from the box. Harry was about to make a comment when the title of the book registered in his mind. Harry paled.

"What is this Potter?"

Harry couldn't answer. He was to busy staring at the cover where he was currently in the act of catching a snitch as he zoomed under the Hogsmead Road bridge.

"Why was there a book about you on my porch, Potter?" Gibbs demanded.

Harry hardly heard his boss speak as he stared at the book. He was lost in his memories, reliving his first year at Hogwarts and the years that followed. They had been the best years, and some of the worst years of his life.

"I..." He couldn't speak past the sudden lump in his throat.

"Harry has a book about him?" Dinozzo asked as he ambled up behind Gibbs and looked at the cover. "What's the sorcerer's stone?"

"I...it's fiction, just a coincidence that the character looks like me," Harry said trying to pull off the lie. He knew he hadn't. There was no way that Gibbs was missing the fact that he was looking at the book as though it was about to catch fire.

"Not according to this letter," he said slapping a piece of parchment down on his desk and jabbing a finger at it.

"Just a good joke," Harry mumbled hopefully. Gibs glared at him. "What? What do you want me to say? You already know its about me," Harry snapped, his mothers temper rising up. Harry glared at the book.

"This letter says I'm supposed to read it. That ill find out all about you," Gibbs said pushing the book at him.

"Are you asking my permission?" Harry hissed out, his temper rising.

"I'm giving you the chance to tell me first," Gibbs scowled.

Harry returned the glare which surprised Gibbs. Harry was usually laid back and easy going, but not nearly as childish as Dinozo. The team had never seen him actually get mad. Slightly irritated with a team member or a suspect yes, but he always seemed to have good control of his temper. "I traveled three thousand miles and spent the last five years trying to bury what's in these books in my past," Harry snapped. " the way I see it you don't need to know. Now, does Abby still have that metal trash can down in the lab?"

"Yeah, why?" Dinozzo asked curiously.

"Cause I have seven books to burn," Harry snapped out as he reached for the brown package. Gibbs was quicker and he grabbed them first.

"We're a team, Potter," Gibbs growled. "If there's something in here that could jeopardize what we do, I need to know about it."

Potter sighed and leaned back in his chair pushing his palms to his eyes, biting back his frustration. How could this have possibly have happened? Part of him knew that Gibbs was right. Isn't that why he had moved his family here to begin with? Would a death eater really come after his muggle co-workers? Yes, if it was to their advantage and provided them entertainment while they hunted him. What about the Statute of Secrecy? He let out a disgusted groan and sat forward reaching for his phone. He dialed a number he dialed at least once everyday and waited for the other to be picked up. Gibbs glared at him and began to speak, but Harry returned his glare with one of his own holding up a finger in the universal sign for wait. A disgurntled 'hello' from the other end of the phone told him that it had been answered.

"Ginny? How are the kids?" Harry asked speaking into the receiver.

"James is causing problems as usual," she sighed in a voice that said 'I blame you'. "and Albus is engrossed in another book. Everything alright at work?"

"No," Harry growled with a glare at Gibbs and then the books. "Look Ginny were going to be having guests over after work. My teammates. Expect seven guests for dinner."

"Harry if you were going to be inviting guests give me a heads up would you? I don't have time to hide all of the magic here," she snapped.

"Don't worry about it. They're going to find out, that's why they're coming. Any chance your parents can take the kids for a few days? This is going to take a while," Harry growled continuing to glare at the books.

"What is going on?" Ginny asked.

"I'll explain when I get home, but needless to say, I am not happy with Hermione at the moment," Harry hissed. "In fact if you talk to her, please inform her, that I'm planning on killing her in the most painful way possible."

"What did she do," She asked.

"Wrote a damn book."

"Oh," Ginny sighed. "Alright, see you in a few hours?"

"Yeah, love you Gin," Harry exhaled.

"I love you too, Harry," she said and then a soft click told him she had hung up. Harry moaned and put his own phone back in the cradle.

"Are you trying set the books on fire, Harry?" Ziva asked.

"Apparently I'm not succeeding," Harry growled.

He picked up the first book, ignoring Gibbs glare and flipped through the first chapter curiously. "There are things in here that your technically not allowed to know about," Harry started. "I get what you mean Gibbs, about my past jeopardizing what we do and quiet honestly part of the reason I moved here from the Old World was because I'm terrified that my past will come back to haunt me. I put a lot of bad, powerful people behind bars and ruined a lot of old noble families. I know your all very curious so I'm willing to read the first chapter, but somewhere private. We save the questions and explanations for when we get to my place alright?"

Gibbs snatched the book from Harry and turned storming off out of the bull pin, Ziva and Tony on his six. "McGee, call Abby and Ducky and tell them to meet us up in the conference room."

Tim was on the phone almost before Gibbs had finished talking. Harry rose slowly out of his seat attempting to delay the inevitable. When he entered the conference room it was to find Gibbs at the head of the table with his arms crossed over his chest. Ziva and Tony were sitting next to each other, for once not bickering, and staring at him intently. Self-conscious, Harry walked over and set his soda down on the table, deliberated for a moment with his hand on the back of his chair and then opted to stand at the window. He didn't want to hear any of this and he wanted the little bit of privacy he could garner in a room of people to break down into his flashbacks if he needed to.

He heard the door open behind him and listened as Abby stomped her way over to a chair in her platform boots. "What's up guys?" She asked cheerfully.

"Hello," came the sophisticated, heavily accented greeting of Ducky. Harry loved talking with Ducky, it made him feel at home to hear the thick Surrey English accent so much like his own. Now, with his past so close to the surface of his mind, it just made him homesick.

"Did McGee explain?" Gibbs asked.

"We're going to be reading about Harry," Ducky said an underlying question in his voice that no one bothered to answer.

"Wouldn't it be so cool to have a book written about you?" Abby asked excitedly. "I want a book written about me, McGee you should get on that," she whined. "Were you shocked Harry?"

"No, I'm mentioned in several books, and in the last five years I would say that there are at least fifty or so books devoted entirely to my life," Harry said quietly. "This is the first one that is actually accurate,however, since it came from an inside source."

Harry turned to look at the room. "There are some rules I need to lay down before we continue, well actually there is only one. I need your word that you will not go repeating what your about to learn to anyone outside of this room alright?"

"Why?" Ziva asked curiously.

"What your about to learn is perhaps one of the most closely guarded secrets in the world. In fact I'm technically breaking the law by allowing you to read these," Harry said softly. The following silence was so thick that you could have cut it with scissors. "If your going to insist on reading it, would you please do so, otherwise spare me the torture and let me go back to work," Harry snapped.

"Who wants to read?" Gibbs asked holding up the book.

"I will," Ziva offered holding out her hand.


	2. The Boy Who Lived

**AN: Hey everyone, thank you for your reviews! I hope I fixed everything that was pointed out to me. On another note, while I am really enjoying writing this story I don't have a lot of free time to work on it. So if there is someone out there who would like to help me by sending me the Harry Potter chapters, then all I have to do is insert my own character script. PM me if you feel like you would want to do this! Thanks again for all of your support and keep the reviews coming!**

"The book is called Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone," Ziva read.

"What's the Sorcerer's Stone?" Tony asked repeating his earlier question.

"It's a rock. A priceless rock, so priceless there was only one in the whole world." Harry snapped. "Just read."

"What about Palmer?" Ducky asked.

Harry bit his lip and thought for a moment and then shook his head. "The less who know about this the better. Palmers only doing his residency here."

Ducky nodded seeming to understand. Ziva took his lack of response as her cue to begin.

"Chapter One, The Boy Who Lived," she read and Harry leaned against the window taking a deep breath. He could feel the eyes of his boss on him and he knew that he was studying his reactions.

**Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Private Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.**

"Your welcome," Tony grinned.

Abby snorted, "Normal is so over-rated."

**They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.**

**Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursley's had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.**

"Okay, I have a question?" Tony interrupted. "Why are we reading about some family called the Dursley's? I thought this was about Harry."

"Vernon and Petunia are my uncle and Aunt on my mother's side," Harry answered with a lack of emotion that Gibbs found disturbing. "Petunia was my mother's sister."

**The Dursley's had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters.**

"Maybe we should have left Harry in the ballistics lab when he locked himself in it," Tony grinned.

Abby gasped and glared at Tony, "Bert was in that room."

**Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be.**

"How dare you not be boring!" Tony cried in mock horror.

**The Dursley's shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursley's knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.**

"What happened between your mother and sister to cause such an estrangement between them?" Ducky asked.

"My aunt was jealous and later I think a large part of her hatred came from knowing that her jealousy had been petty and not having let it go when she had the opportunity to still be a sister," Harry explained.

**When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.**

"Nice kid," Ziva muttered.

**None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.**

**At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his brief case, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls.**

"Sounds like a great kid," Tony muttered.

"He reminds me of you Tony," Ziva smirked at him and then continued reading before Tony could respond.

**"Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.**

"He encouraged that sort of behavior?" Ducky asked looking aghast. "That sort of response is only going to embolden that child into a more demanding behavior. Why I remember a boy from my youth who was treated very similarly as this child is being treated now. This sort of response can be just as damaging to an impressionable childs psyche as abuse or neglect. Why these people…"

"Ducky!" Gibbs interrupted. "Can we return to the story?"

"What? Oh yes, my apologies. Carry on Ziva, dear."

**It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar - a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen - then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Private Drive - no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.**

"Umm did your Uncle have problems with hallucinations?" Ziva asked looking up from the book.

"No," Harry sighed. "He was the most unimaginitive person you could possibly meet. Anything out of the ordinary was taboo."

"But…"

"It will be explained Ziva," Harry assured her. "The cat is by no means a normal cat."

Ziva hesitated and then began to read, again.

**But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks.**

Gibbs didn't miss the way that Harry's head snapped around at the mention of this and how he stared at the book with a mixture of curiosity and fear. As Ziva continued to read Harry's curiosity seemed to win out and he drifted toward the chair with his soda and sat down.

**Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes - the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt - these people were obviously collecting for something...yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived at Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.**

**Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found if harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in brood daylight, -**

"Okay, what is with the owls? They keep getting mentioned," Abby asked looking at Harry.

Harry shrugged, "It will explain."

**He didn't see the owls swooping past in brood daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped over-head. Most of them had never seen an owl even at night time. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunch time, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.**

"A thought that occurs to him everyday," Ziva snorted. "I doubt he only got one either."

"He really needs to watch his choloric intake. Does he have any idea how bad it is on his joints, not to mention the cholostral to his heart. Harry you need to have a talk with your Uncle," Abby exclaimed, punching him on the arm.

Harry winced and rubbed his arm where she had hit him. "I haven't spoken to my Uncle or Aunt since just before my seventeenth birthday."

"Forgiveness is a hard thing to accomplish. It's much easier for us to hold on to our anger and blame others," Ducky hypothesiesed. "Holding onto our anger and hatred can actually cause mental trauma that's…"

"It isn't that simple Ducky," Harry said teresly putting an end to his monologue.

**He'd forgotten all about the people in weird cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.**

**"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard - "**

**" - yes, their son, Harry - "**

"Are they talking about you?" Abby asked.

"Yes." His voice came out tight and strangled. His hands were gripping the arm rests of the chair and his body was tense.

"What are they talking about?" Tony asked tactlessly.

"October thirty-first, nineteen-eighty-one," Harry replied cryptically. Gibbs didn't miss the sudden sadness in the man's voice or how his tense form suddenly seemed defeated. He motioned for Ziva to continue reading now more curious than ever to reach the conclusion of the chapter and discover why Potter didn't seem to like his mother's family and why he almost seemed to fear reading these books.

**Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.**

**He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking … no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry. He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her - if he'd had a sister like that . . . but all the same, those people in cloaks . . .**

"What I don't understand is why your parents are associated with people in cloaks," Tony noted. "Were they part of a cult or something? Is that why your Aunt doesn't like your mom?"

"I wouldn't call it a Cult, although I suppose to an outsider it could easily be seen as one," Harry added thoughtfully. "You'll understand it later and if not I will explain it when we are at my home."

**He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.**

**"Sorry," he grunted as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"**

"You-know-who?"

"Muggles?"

"Either the book will explain or I will later," Harry sighed.

**And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.**

**Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.**

**As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw - and it didn't improve his mood - was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around it's eyes.**

"That's a bit odd," Abby observed.

**"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly.**

**The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered.**

"No, no its not."

**Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.**

**Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't"). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:**

**"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be anymore showers of owls tonight, Jim?"**

**"Well, Ted,"**

"That explains it," Harry said softly looking down at the table.

Gibbs didn't think he had meant anyone to hear, but Abby had. "Explains what?"

"My Godson Teddy? That is his grandfather. He knows what is going on," Harry explained.

"I thought Teddy only lived with his Grandmother?" Ziva asked curiously.

"Yes," Harry sighed sadly not bothering to explain. The answer was obvious enough that no one bothered to ask for one.

**"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised them yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early - it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."**

"How do so many people mistake fireworks for shooting stars?" Abby asked cocking her head to the side curiously.

"So mysterious," Tony said softly with a hungry anticipatory gleam in his eyes.

**Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er - Petunia, dear - you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"**

**As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.**

**"No," she said sharply. "Why?"**

**"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls . . .shooting stars . . .and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today . . ."**

**"So?" snapped Mrs. Drusley.**

**"Well I just thought . . .maybe . . .it was something to do with . . .you know . . .her crowd."**

**Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared to tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their son - he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"**

**"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.**

**"What's his name again? Howard isn't it?"**

**"Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."**

**"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."**

**He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as thought waiting for something.**

"Ok, what the hell is up with that cat?" Tony probed. Harry gave nothing away. Instead he looked as though he hadn't even heard Tony. His entire focus was on the book.

**Was he imagining things? Could all of this have anything to do the Potters? If it did . . .if it got out that they were related to a pair of - well he didn't think he could bear it.**

**The Dursley's got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind . . . He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on - he yawned and turned over - it couldn't affect them . . .**

**How very wrong he was.**

**Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, it's eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Private Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact it was nearly midnight when the cat moved at all.**

**A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.**

**Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt.**

Gibbs, who had been doing what he had been doing the whole time, watching Harry, noticed the slight tug at the corner's of his mouth. He knew who this man was. A friend maybe?

**He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice.**

"It was," Harry chuckled, giving in to his amusement.

**This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.**

**Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome.**

Harry snorted, "Of course he knew, he just didn't give a rat's ass."

**He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."**

"Ok, I'm lost," Abby grumbled and the rest of the group nodded in agreement.

**He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter.**

**He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again — the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him.**

"What just happened?" Ziva asked looking up from the book after having read the chapter a second time.

"The book will explain," Harry sighed. "But the object he used is called a Deluminator. It was his own invention. One of his more ingenious ideas and that is saying something."

Ziva stared at him for a moment before letting out a deep breath of frustration and going back to the book.

**If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.**

**"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."**

**He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.**

By the end of the paragraph the group had to listen very carefully to what Ziva was saying because she was racing to the last sentence. When she was done, she slammed the book down on the table and glared at Harry. "Alright, Potter, what is going on? What happened to the cat?"

"I would rather just let the…"

"...book explain. This book is supposed to be about you and yet it is making absolutely no sense," Ziva complained. "Since this book has started their has been a number of odd things, things that could never happen, and you expect us to believe it's not fiction?"

"Ziva, I know a lot of this isn't making sense, but my answers are just going to give you more questions," Harry moaned. "It will simply make more sense if you continue reading. I swear."

Ziva huffed but instead of saying anything more, she picked up the book and began to read again.

**"How did you know it was me?" she asked.**

**"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."**

"You have got to be kidding me," Ziva snarled as she slammed the book back down on the table. "You expect me to believe that this Professor McGonagall is, was, the cat?"

Harry sighed but nodded his head. "Just read and accept what the book is telling you for now. I promise to explain everything to you this evening," Harry assured them after seeing some of the disbelieving looks from the rest of his team. "I know that this doesn't make much sense to you, but I would very much prefer to finish this chapter quickly."

Ziva glared at him defiently, but after a moment she picked the book. After one last calculating scowl over the edge of the book she began to read.

**"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.**

**"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."**

**Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.**

**"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no — even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news."**

**She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls… shooting stars… Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent — I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."**

**"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."**

"Eleven years?" Tony asked eyes bulging. "So what does this You-Know-Who character have to do with eleven years of depression?"

"Everything," Harry whispered sadly. "He caused eleven year's of absolute fear and misery. People were so terrified of him that they refused even to say his name."

**"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."**

**She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"**

"You guys are really secretive, huh?" McGee noted.

**"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"**

"He knew?" Harry sat up astonished. "Even then he knew? Damn him!"

"What?" Abby asked a mixture of curiosity and excitement.

"Nothing," Harry grunted glaring at the book with a frustrated expression.

**"A what?"**

**"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."**

**"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone —"**

**"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense — for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort."**

"You-Know-Who's real name was Voldemort?" Tony asked in disbelief before breaking out into laughter which was echoed by Ziva and McGee.

"Actually, it was Lord Voldemort, and that wasn't his real name, just what he called himself," Harry grumbled. "It was an anagram of his real name."

The trio broke out into a new fit of laughter after discovering that he had included Lord before his name. "He was very pretentious, wasn't he?" Ziva smirked.

"Very," Harry groused.

**Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."**

**"I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."**

**"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have." "Only because you're too — well —noble to use them."**

**"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."**

**Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what they're saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"**

**It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.**

**"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are — are — that they're — dead."**

Ziva stopped reading and slowly let the book fall back onto the table. Everyone was looking at Harry now, but he didn't notice. His eyes were tightly closed as he fought back the memories of that night. The last thing he needed was to hear his mother's screams or his fathers shouts. His eyes popped open and searched out the window trying to block out the horrid green light with the bright white light from outside.

Gibbs, who sat in the direction Harry was now facing, was the only one privy to the turmoil inside of the young man. It was a reaction he didn't understand or would have expected. Judging by the way Harry had talked and the date he had given away earlier Gibbs would have guessed that Harry was just a baby when this had happened, but he acted as though he was reliving the event of his parents death. He glanced at the clenched fists on the arm rests and amended his thoughts. He wasn't reliving them, he was trying very hard not to. Gibbs looked over to where Ducky sat and made a mental note to talk to him later about memories and his theory.

"Harry," Abby said softly, grasping his shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm sure we all are," Ducky quietly agreed.

"Please, just continue," Harry said stiffly, his eyes still fixated on the window, barely acknowledging his team-mates expressions of sympathy.

**Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.**

**"Lily and James… I can't believe it… I didn't want to believe it… Oh, Albus…"**

**Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know… I know…" he said heavily.**

**Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry."**

Again, Ziva stopped reading, but this time everyone was looking at him in wonderment. A mad-man had tried to kill him when he was just a child and yet, here he sat. How was that possible.

"Please just keep reading," Harry pleaded.

**"But he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke — and that's why he's gone." Dumbledore nodded glumly. "It's — it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done… all the people he's killed… he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding… of all the things to stop him… but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"**

"Yes, how Harry?" Ducky asked gazing at the man in question.

Harry however refused to answer.

**"We can only guess." said Dumbledore. "We may never know."**

**Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"**

**"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"**

**"I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."**

"You had to grow up with those people?" Abby gasped.

"Yes," Harry replied miserably.

Again, Gibbs was left wondering at Harry's strange emotions towards his family members.

**"You don't mean – you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore — you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son — I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"**

"I agree!" Abby shouted.

**"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."**

**"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous — a legend — I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future — there will be books written about Harry — every child in our world will know his name!"**

"Umm, wow…" Tony breathed.

"Were you really famous?" Abby questioned starring at Harry.

"Yes," Harry answered glaring at the book.

"Is there a day named after you?" Abby asked eagerly.

"NO!" Harry yelped. "Dear God, the press was bad enough, the books an honest nightmare, but a Holiday? Merlin's beard, I'd never get away from the bloody nutters."

"Dude, you don't like being famous?" Tony gaped at him.

"I'd rather have another face off with Voldemort than be famous," Harry cringed. "There is absolutely no privacy."

"But, all the women and the attention," Tony stammered.

Harry narrowed his eyes on Tony. "I have a beautiful wife, who I happen to be head-over-heels in love with and three gorgeous children. Why on Earth would I want attention from the public let alone woman? Do you realize the fear I have to live with every time I leave the house. Because of my past, my children grow up learning how to handle themselves in different captive situations. You don't understand the terror I feel every time I pick up the phone to hear Ginny on the other line because I'm afraid that she's calling to tell me some self-righteous vengeful bastard got a hold of my kids. I don't just dislike the fame, I absolutely loath it."

Everyone stared at him wide eyed. No one really knew how to respond to what Harry had just revealed. He had never given the impression that he found it hard to be away from his family while he was at work. Nor had any of them even so much as suspected that he or his family was in danger because of his unknown past. He had always seemed so normal.

"Can you please read," Harry snarled at Ziva before leaning back in his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose, a sign of his frustration.

**"Exactly." said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"**

**Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes — yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it."Hagrid's bringing him."**

**"You think it —wise — to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"**

"**I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.**

**"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to — what was that?"**

**A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky — and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.**

**Everyone looked up at Harry the question clearly on the edge of their tongues. "I'll explain after," he snapped.**

**If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild — long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.**

**"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"**

**"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."**

**"No problems, were there?"**

**"No, sir — house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."**

**Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.**

**"Is that where —?" whispered Professor McGonagall.**

**"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."**

**"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"**

**"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground.**

**Well — give him here, Hagrid — we'd better get this over with."**

"Why are they so curious over your scare, Harry?" Ducky inquired, his profession fueling his interest.

"It's called a curse scar," Harry explained only causing the group more confusion. "It's where Voldemort tried to kill me."

Ducky frowned, "I don't understand."

"No, you don't," Harry sighed. He offered no more information and Ziva went back to reading.

**Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.**

**"Could I — could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.**

**"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "You'll wake the Muggles!"**

**"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it —Lily an' James dead — an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles —"**

**"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.**

**"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."**

"They left you on a doorstep?" Ziva gapped.

"Yes," Harry shrugged, unconcerned by the picture the words were painting. He hadn't known this part, but based on what Dumbledore had once explained to him, his actions made sense.

Gibbs no longer knew how to take Harry's emotions, not that he had known before, but they were getting stranger. He wasn't reacting to the situations with corresponding emotions, but instead he continued to surprise Gibbs with his detachment.

**"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall — Professor Dumbledore, sir."**

**Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.**

**Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.**

**"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.**

"Thank you," Harry whispered. He spoke so quietly that only Gibbs heard and he gave his agent an odd look.

**A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley… He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter — the boy who lived!"**

Ziva quietly put the book on the table and everyone contemplated what they had heard in silence. Finally Abby broke the taciturn atmosphere. "You sound like you were an adorable baby," she gushed.

"Thanks Abbs," Harry said absently. Suddenly Harry stood up from his chair. "Excuse me," he said as he hurried out the door.

Everyone stared after him, wondering. "What do you think is going on?" Tony finally asked.

"I don't know, this book makes no sense," Ziva grumbled pushing the thick novel away from her. "How can this be a biography when it's clearly a work of fiction. The only real part is Harry."

"Harry said it was all true," Abby disagreed.

"They were talking about magic, Abby," Ziva said kindly. She knew the goth woman liked the idea of vampires, wizards and monsters, but surely she knew that it was all fiction, right?

"What do you think boss?" McGee asked before a fight could break out.

"What's rule number 36?" he asked.

"Always believe your partner," They receited.

"Get back to work," he said as he picked the book up off the table and went out the door before he could be sucked into more theorizing by his agents.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry starred at his reflection in the mirror, water dripping from the hair plastered to his forehead and into the sink. He pulled at the collar of his shirt suddenly feeling as though he were suffocating. His mothers screams bounced around in his head, his fathers shouts echoing them. Worst still he could hear Voldemort's laugh as he recalled how he had raised his hand at his defenseless father. How he had sneered at his mothers pleas for mercy and seemingly useless attempts to protect her child. Green light filled the entirety of his vision as Voldemort cast that fatal curse that would make him famous at the tender age of one. A piercing scream filled his ears as the curse backfired and hit its castor instead.

Slowly the bathroom came into focus again and Harry found that he was gripping the edge o the sink so tightly he was in danger porcelain.

"Something on your mind Potter?"

Harry looked back up into the mirror to see his boss standing over his shoulder.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not really," Harry grimaced.

"How old were you?"

Harry didn't have to ask what he was talking about. "Fifteen months to the day," he grimaced.

"Why did he come after your parents? "

"He didn't. He came after me, my mom and dad simply got in the way. Not that it mattered. They were doing everything they could to hunt the bastard down and stop him."

"Why did he come after you?"

"It's complicated," Harry mumbled.

"How long was he hunting you?" Harry had never been more grateful for Gibbs forthright and simple nature. He didn't push for more than you were willing to give, but he still left with more information than you had ever intended on revealing. His simple questions prompted simple answers and as he had learned over the years, sometimes simple answers revealed more about the situation than the long-winded explanations.

"Nearly fifteen months," Harry sighed.

"How did he find you?"

Harry's expression darkened as he looked back at his boss in the mirror. For Harry, that was the worst part about his parents murder, the part he found hardest to accept. His mind flashed back to the night he had spared Pettigrew's' life and the horrors that pathetic traitor had gone on to commit because of his mercy. Cedric's empty gaze stared out of Gibbs observant steel eyes and bored into his back, reminding him of his own crucial mistake. Pettigrew hadn't deserved mercy. The lives of sixteen innocent victims stained his hands with blood and Harry had refused to allow Sirius and Remus to kill him where he stood. However, no matter how often he relived that scene in the shack he couldn't bring himself to make a different decision. His father would never have wanted Sirius or Remus to become murderers. Not that it counted for anything. Sirius had never gotten the justice he deserved. He had died a guilty man and only after Voldemort's return had been revealed was he proclaimed innocent of all charges. His innocence however was so overshadowed by the war that it hardly signified. Barely a soul knew that his godfather was guiltless and Pettigrew had died quietly with hardly anyone knowing that he was even alive.

Gibbs seemed to understand that he wasn't going to answer and instead moved on. "Did you kill him?"

Harry looked up at Gibbs in surprise. He didn't see any contempt in his eyes, not that he had expected any, nor did he see any judgments being made there. As always it was a simple question with a very simple answer. "Yes."

"Good," Gibbs nodded before striding to the bathroom door. "Now get back to work."

Harry stared after his boss in shock. That was all he had to say? Good? He had made it sound as though he had killed his parents murderer in cold blood and Gibbs said 'good'? Turning back to the mirror he shook his head shaking loose the fog that had entered his mind when they had begun reading, splashed a bit more water on his face to help wake himself up, and then straighten his shirt. He checked himself over and then left the bathroom. Gibbs hadn't even asked him about all the odd stuff that had occurred in the books.

Gibbs strode into the morgue and went straight to Ducky who was sitting at his computer.

"Find anything interesting Duck?"

Ducky jumped slightly at his question, "Oh Jethero. You startled me. What brings you down here?"

"Potter," Gibbs said as he moved around to the other side of Ducky and leaned against an open portion of his desk. He pointed at the screen. "Discover something?"

Ducky looked back at the screen as if trying to recall what he had been doing and then looked back to Gibbs. "Some odd things, take a look," he said moving out of the way. "News articles from the U.K. the years leading to and just after 1981. It seems, the country was hit with a great amount of bad luck. People were disappearing, turning up dead with absolutely no explanation for how they came to be dead. Massive accidents from bridges collapsing to  
railway crashes to random building fires. Then look, October thirty-first, nineteen-eighty-one, owls were behaving oddly, several reports of falling stars, reports of obnoxious celebrations in strange places and then the next day, nothing. Life practically went back to normal. No more odd accidents, or owls, or celebrations."

"It certainly adds up with what we've read so far, Duck," Gibbs observed.

"Yes, it does, unfortunately," Ducky said solemnly. He leaned back over his computer and pulled up an article that had been minimized at the bottom of the screen.

Gibbs leaned forward and tensed as he read the Headline.

**House Fire in Godric's Hallow Claims Three Victims**

**Number thirteen Elder Way of Godric's Hallow went up in flames last evening claiming the lives of James and Lily Potter and their one year old son Harry. It is unclear, as of yet, as to what started the fire, but sources say it began in the nursery. Witnesses claim to having heard an explosion before racing outside to see what had happened and finding the house in flames. Many of the neighbors were surprised to discover that the Potter's had even been inside the home.**

**"Knew the place was owne' by someun' named Potter, but I ain't ever seen em' about town," their neighbor across the street claimed."Thought the place was abandoned. Wouldn't know someone was living there by looking at it. No car, no light's on ever, shabby yard and pealing paint. Never could figure out why they just didn't sell the place," another neighbor told the Godric's Hallow Gazette.**

**Officials have confirmed the suspicion of foul play and urge anyone with information about the Potter's and the fire to call the tip hotline below. See page C.**

Gibbs straightened up and leaned back against the desk his arms crossed. He was quiet for several minutes before speaking up again. "Ducky can someone remember what happened when they were barely a toddler?"

"Its very unusual," Ducky said thoughtfully leaning back in his seat to get a better look at Gibbs. "Memories don't fade away as most people believe, but instead they get buried beneath new memories. Sometimes people can remember traumatic events far longer than any other memories. For example, there was that gentlemen a few years ago that could still remember in detail the events of his father's death that occurred when he was just five years old. "

"What about a one year old child, Duck?"

"Well its not completely unheard of for traumatic experiences to bring forth memories from when you were just a child. After all those memories are there, just very well hidden," Ducky explained patiently. "Why do you ask, Jethero?"

"I think Harry remembers everything about that night, Duck," Gibbs said pointing to the computer where the article was still glaring back at them from the lit screen.

"I doubt he remembers all of it Jethero, sounds and colors maybe, but they would be a jumbled mess in his mind," Ducky assured him.

"Actually, I remember it very clearly."

Ducky jumped in his seat and looked back towards the doors in surprise and guilt. Gibbs didn't look surprised or ashamed, he just simply stared back at his agent not the least bit disturbed by the fact that he had just been caught talking about him.

"I came down here to give you the Anderson File you asked for," Harry said.

"Oh, well thank you, my dear boy," Ducky said jumping out of his seat and meeting Harry half-way across the room. Harry handed Ducky the file and then stood awkwardly as though he were uncertain of how to proceed. Ducky turned to walk back to his desk but halted and turned back to Harry. "I may be over stepping my bounds, but do you mind me asking how it is you remember that night so clearly?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably and glanced away for a moment before meeting Ducky's eyes. "It was a gift from Voldemort. He thought I would enjoy seeing how my parents died. Do you mind if I go home early? " Harry asked abruptly his eyes suddenly on Gibbs.

Gibbs, who was a bit startled from the sudden subject change, nodded. "If you think you need to."

Harry turned on his heal and quickly walked towards the door. "See you in two hours at my place," he said over his shoulder before disappearing from view. Gibbs and Ducky exchanged a look that both understood. Whatever had happened in his past, Harry was part of the team, and Gibbs knew without a doubt that he had kept his secrets for a good reason.

Gibbs drove his charger into a parking spot in front of the apartment address that Harry had given Tony before leaving work early. Harry was sitting on the apartment stairs playing catch with a golden ball. When he through the car in park Harry stood up and pocketed the ball.

"You found it alright then?" He asked as he waited for them to get out of the car.

"A bit out of the way, isn't it Potter?" Gibbs asked as a way of responding. The apartment was off the beaten path a bit. There were no main roads through the area for easy access to his job and Tony and Ziva were left wondering how he beat them to work every morning.

"I suppose," Harry shrugged and then turned on his heal and headed up the stairs. "Come on up," he ushered.

Gibbs turned to see Ducky just getting out of his car with Abby and then turned back to follow Potter up the stairs to the apartment. No one had ever been to Harry's residence before and they were all very curious to see it. Whenever anyone had asked why he never invited anyone over, he told them that his kids were still young and his wife insisted that he didn't bring work home.

Harry led them into a spacious top floor apartment that overlooked a park. The floor plan was modern and open with quality appliances and granite countertops. A hallway led to three bedrooms and off to one side was a small living room done up to be used as an office. Harry motioned them into the family room.

"Go ahead and have a seat in there. I'll be right back." He disappeared into the office while the team self-consciously made themselves comfortable. A moment later Harry returned with what looked like six envelopes in his hands. "I understand that the first book left you with quite a few questions and that I now have a bit of explaining to do. First, I recall telling you earlier that by allowing you to read those books I was breaking the law. However, I made a few inquiries and pulled a few favors and I got you these," he said handing out the envelopes. "They are official letters that authorizes you to officially be made aware of this international secret. It's for you to present to one of my people should you ever get caught in a situation that involves them."

"And just what secret are we being trusted with keeping, Potter?" Gibbs demanded.

Harry grimaced clearly having hoped that no one would ask what the secret was. "This is going to be very hard for you to believe. We have gone to great lengths to see to it that the muggle community thinks were just a myth…" Harry seemed to realize that he was babbling and took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Guys, I'm a wizard."

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat beneath the stares he was receiving from his co-workers. "You mean a magician? Like the kind that go up on the stage and saw people in half and pull bunnies out of hats?" Ziva asked.

"Umm, no, I'm...err… it may just be easiest to show you. Tony, do you mind if I use you to demonstrate?" Harry asked hesitantly.

Tony glanced uncertainly at the rest of the group and then stood up straight from where he was leaning against the couch. "Sure why not," he shrugged.

Harry drew his wand and twirled it in his fingers for a moment before pointing it at Tony and muttering softly, "Tarantallegra."

"AHHHH!" Tony screamed as his legs began to do an Irish jig.

"Tony what are you doing?" Ziva scowled.

"MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!" Tony cried as his legs flawlessly went into the salsa.

"Stop being ridiculous," Ziva scolded as she stood up and grabbed hold of his arm to pull him back into his seat. Tony's feet however had other ideas and they pulled her in a different direction. Tony had to catch Ziva before she fell over and as a result pulled her into the dance with him.

"Damn't Harry make it stop!" He shouted. Harry was too busy laughing along with his colleagues to stop the debacle.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER-BLACK, YOU PUT THAT POOR MAN TO RIGHTS THIS INSTINENT OR I WILL HEX YOU INTO NEXT WEEK!"

Harry jumped out of his seat and muttered the counter-curse so quickly he nearly gave himself whiplash. The laughter that had filled the room quickly died only to begin again when as a result of the quick ending to the spell Tony tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground, taking Ziva with him. Harry chuckled as he watched them struggle to their feet before quickly stopping when he caught the look the angry woman was sending his way.

By now everyone was curious to know who had shouted and looked around Harry's wiry frame to see a petite fiery redhead standing just inside the door with her hands on her hips.

"Hello Mrs. Potter," Harry grinned cheekily. "How was your day?"

"Busy cleaning up and chasing after your son," Mrs. Potter growled. "Ten minutes with his grandparents and he was already getting into trouble. He put exploding snaptraps under all of the seat cushions in the living room. It took fifteen minutes just to stop the explosions."

"It took him a full ten minutes to do that," Harry gapped and then proceeded to mumble, "He's loosing his touch."

His colleagues stared at him in disbelief. They had always thought Harry had a better sense of survival than he was currently displaying. Judging by his wife's glare she was only one cheeky remark from skewering him with something sharp.

"Don't think I don't know where he got those snaptraps from," Ginny snapped.

Harry through his hands up in the air and grinned. "Hey, I'm innocent. You should check with your brother. He's the prankster."

"This coming from the son of the Marauder's gang leader," Ginny snorted, but a smile pulled at her lips as she stood on tip toes and kissed him on the cheek. "Are you going to introduce me or do I have to do it myself?"

Harry smirked at her. "I don't think I have to bother, you made it rather obvious when you yelled at me."

His head shot forward as a hand collided with the back of it. "You always have to bother with the wife Potter," Gibbs growled.

Ginny grinned at him as she shook his hand, "At least there's one man in here who knows how to treat a woman. "

"Yet he's been divorced three times," Tony teased from a safe distance away. It was far away enough to escape Gibbs glare however.

Ginny snorted. "Harry told me about _those_ woman. A true woman likes a man with good manners. A few more years around you, Agent Gibbs, and my husband might just learn a few."

Harry glared at his wife while Gibbs smiled down at the little spitfire Harry had married. "Ginny this is my boss, Agent Leroy Jethero Gibbs, and the rest of the team Agents Ziva David, Tony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, our forensic scientist Abby Sciuto, and our medical examiner, Dr. Donald Mallard. Everyone this is my wife Ginny."

"It's so nice to finally meet you," Abby gushed as she rushed forward to give Ginny a hug. "Harry talks about you all the time!"

"Good," Ginny nodded with a sly glance to her husband who rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I'm busy telling them what a nag you are," he said tickling her waist.

Ginny let out an uncontrollable laugh and slapped his hand away. She shifted so that his arm draped over her shoulders . "So has Harry explained everything to you then?"

"He say's you're a wizard," Abby grinned. "Is it true? He's not lying is he? Cause I could feed him something to make him sick for a week if he is." Abby glared at Harry.

"No, I'm a witch and Harry's a wizard," Ginny assured her. "So are we all ready to go then?"

"Go where?" McGee asked. "I thought we were reading the books here at your place."

Ginny laughed. "This tiny place? No, this is an apparition point so that we can safely get to and from the city and our house. Because of our fame, our actual residence is a closely guarded secret."

"So where do you actually live Potter?" Gibbs growled.

"A fifty-acre plot of land near a small town about four hours from here," Harry shrugged. "Were you able to get the port-key Ginny?"

"Of, course I got the port key, yee-of-little-faith, " Ginny smirked and then pulled out a comb and set it down on the table. "Oh, I before we leave I need to warn you. Ron and Hermione are at the house."

Harry's gaze darkened, "Did you tell her that I'm plotting her murder?"

"I did and she say's she's very, very, sorry and that she was only doing it for your own good," Ginny said softly while stroking his arm.

Harry's anger deflated. "You were in on it weren't you?"

"I have no idea what your talking about, dear, this was the first I've heard of any books," Ginny smiled innocently.

Harry snorted, "I've watched you cover your brother's tracks too often Ginny-mine to fall for that innocent routine. James doesn't just get his prankster jeans from my side of the family."

"He most certainly does," Ginny exclaimed flipping her hair over her shoulder and turning towards the watching group. "So here is how a port-key works. Everyone place a finger on the comb and it will take us to our destination. I must warn you that for first timer's it cause a bit of nausea. Just let go when I tell you too, got it?" She asked. Everyone looked at each other uncertainly. "Come on, come on, we don't have all day to do this. If your coming you best grab on, it leaves in five seconds!"

Suddenly there was a mad dash for everyone to get their finger onto the comb. Tony DiNozzo was the last one to get his finger to the comb, and just as he did they were suddenly gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Gibbs felt as though he was on the worlds fastest octopus ride while being sucked through a vacuum. It was the worst experience of his life. Worse even than flying in the back of a cargo plane during a storm. He was relieved when they finally landed and wasn't surprised when he had to bite back the urge to be sick in the nearest plant. For once he couldn't blame his team when as soon as they gained their balance they were rushing over to the nearest secluded spot they could find. The only one who hadn't rushed off was Ducky and he was looking particularly green. Gibbs looked over to Potter to find him staring at his colleagues with a look of sympathy and to see his wife grimacing.

"First time is always the worst," Harry intoned. "After that it doesn't get much better."

"You look fine," Gibbs grumbled moodily.

Potter shrugged, "I'm used to it."

"I don't know what you are all complaining about," Ginny huffed. "Sure it's unpleasant, slightly uncomfortable, but it's not as bad as apparition."

Potter chuckled at his wife as he put his arm around her. "Gin, you've been traveling by port-key your whole life. Take my word for it. As muggles, they have never experienced anything nearly as terrifying as port-key transportation, let alone apparition."

Tony, Ziva, and McGee staggered back to the group looking very pale, but otherwise fine. "Shall we?" Ginny asked. "Our home is just through those trees."

Gibbs nodded and Ginny led the group towards the edge of the woods. When they broke through the trees it was to find a three story white home with a wrap around porch and a veranda. A sprawling garden was laid out around it with a patio set placed under a small open building. There were seats around the table for at least twenty-five occupants.

"Wow," Tony gapped.

"This place is amazing, Harry," Ziva said sincerely as she gazed at the pleasant setting.

"Thank you," Potter smiled at her. "Ginny did a beautiful job."

Mrs. Potter blushed a deep red and elbowed her husband in the ribs playfully. "Well come on up," she encouraged. "Hermione is cooking and Ron is doing, whatever Ron does."

"Probably being forced to chop vegetables," Harry chuckled.

The rest of the NCIS team followed the group up to the house, stopping several times because Abby found the flora and fauna absolutely fascinating. Ginny and Harry had to stop her on several occasions from getting to close to a few particular plants that liked to bite.

When they had reached a split in the path, Ginny paused and bit her lip. She looked up at her husband and then back at the NCIS group. "Why don't I finish showing you the yard. Harry can you tell Hermione, when your done murdering her, that we'll eat out on the patio. It's a lovely day."

Harry frowned but shrugged and kissed his wife on the cheek. "Alright."

As soon as Harry was out of sight Ginny turned around to face the rest of the team. "I apologize, but I didn't think you would want to see Harry loose his temper with Hermione. I'll take you around to the back and show you the house before you all leave if you would like to see it."

"Since when does Harry have a temper," Abby giggled. "I've never seen him get mad over anything."

"Consider yourself lucky," Ginny grumbled. "That man should have red hair. I'll be amazed if we don't hear…"

"HOW COULD YOU DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS?"

Ginny scowled at the house. "Definitely should have had red hair." The NCIS team stood gaping at the house. Who knew Harry had that sort of lung capacity? "You guys coming?" The team hurried after Ginny wincing every time Harry's voice carried beyond the house walls.

"So who are Hermione and Ron?" Ziva asked as they sat down, trying to distract everyone from the fight.

"There his best friends and Ron is my brother," Ginny answered as she stared up at the house. "Hermione was an only child and they sort of adopted each other as siblings."

"Why is he so mad about the books?"

Ginny glanced at Tony incredulously. "How would you like it if the whole of your life and all it's dirty little details were laid out for the world to see?"

Tony grimaced and then leaned back in his chair. "Why did she write the books then?"

Ginny sighed. "Harry has adamantly refused to talk to the press since he was fourteen years old and a scummy writer made a real mess of his reputation. They've been dying for a first hand account of what actually happened fourteen years ago, and all they've been able to get are bits and pieces. Then there's the books. All of those stories glorifying his triumphs and making him out to be this perfect powerful wizard. Harry hates it all. I think Hermione thought that if she published the story, Harry would get what he wants - the public realizing that he is a man like any other, a man with flaws - and the papers would get a story."

"What happened fourteen years ago?" Ducky asked.

Ginny's face became haunted as it looked out over the back yard. "The very worst day of my life."

The NCIS team looked at each other all of them wanting to ask more, but the sudden chill in the air kept them from speaking out. A moment later Harry came out the back door carrying a large tray of drinks. There was some sort of bent and crooked creature behind him carrying a bowl of what looked like salad.

"Hello," Harry grinned as he set the tray down. "Everyone, this is Kreacher." Everyone waved and mumbled a hello.

"Kreacher are you going to read with us?" Ginny asked as she began handing out the refreshments.

"Kreacher will go back to Grimmuald," the creature rasped. It began mumbling things under its breath. "Who knows what that arrogant little house-elf has done to my mistresses home. The silver probably isn't even polished. Why she hired him I'll never know. I'm not dead yet…"

"Kreacher, since your going back to England, would you mind stopping by the burrow and returning some old photo albums. I don't trust the mail with them," Ginny smiled at the ugly creature.

The thing bowed low, its bulbous nose smashed against the ground, "Kreacher would be honored to serve his mistress."

"Excellent let's go and get them shall we," she smiled and then began leading the elf back up to the house.

"Bye Kreacher," Harry called out.

Gibbs was the one who broke out the uncomfortable silence. "What the hell was that thing?"

"Kreacher is a house elf," Harry said frowning. "A very old house-elf. I'm surprised he hasn't kicked the bucket yet."

"Why was it wearing that?" Abby asked.

Harry grimaced. "That is a sign of how barbaric the wizarding world can be. House-elf's are enslaved by magic to wizarding families. That disgusting rag he was wearing is a sign of his enslavement. Presenting a house-elf with clothes is the only way to free an elf."

"YOU have slaves?" Ziva asked aghast.

"No!" Harry cried out and then with a frown he shoved his hand through his hair. "I have ten house-elf's that I employ, only three of which are actually slaves. House elf enslavement is very complicated because despite the fact that they have emotions and ideas that are as acute as any humans they do not have independent thought. House elf's by nature are workers. They HAVE to work. Like bees HAVE to collect honey, or squirrels HAVE to collect acorns. It's a natural instinct for them. They will always be servants in wizarding house-holds cause of this. Kreacher is a very old elf. If I even suggested freeing him I'm pretty certain that he'd have a coronary and die where he stood. You should have seen the look on his face when I freed the other seven elf's."

"That's horrible," Abby shuddered.

Harry nodded. "Wizards live a long time. My friend Hagrid is in his eighties now, I believe, and he is still considered middle-aged in our world. It's because of this that causes us to be slow to evolve. Our elders, you see, hold onto their traditions and the only people in the wizarding world who understand how far behind the wizarding world is are those who were born and raised in the muggle world. Our people are very medieval in their though process. Many things have changed in recent years, but we still have a long way to go before the wizarding world is on the same thought base as the rest of the world. "

"Daddy! Daddy!"

Harry turned a startled gaze toward the house where a red-haired girl was racing toward him just ahead of two boys. Harry bent down and the girl jumped up into his arms. "Hey Lilly-flower," Harry chuckled. He placed a kiss on the girls cheek and then set her down just as the boys reached him and grabbed him around the waste. "Albus, James, what are you doing here? Your supposed to be with your grandma and grandpa."

"I'm sorry Harry, Rose knew what we were doing and spilled the beans to Mom and Dad. They wanted to read the stories also," Ginny explained coming up behind the boys.

"Please Dad! We want to know what happened! Come on!" the red haired boy begged. He looked to be the oldest of the three and an even mixture of both his parents. The second boy was the spitting image of his father and the young girl looked a great deal like her mother, though her father's influence could be just as clearly seen.

"Ginn…" Harry gave her a pleading look, clearly not wanting to be the bad-guy but also not wanting to give in.

"They're all Hogwarts age Harry," Ginny said softly. "I can only imagine what they've been hearing at school. They can handle it. I think it's time they knew."

"I never intended to tell them everything," Harry growled. "There's some gruesome stuff in that book and that's only the first book. "

Ginny looked uncertain for a moment and then shook her head. "I'm certain. They're ready to know."

Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his daughters hair. "Alright, you can read with us."

"YAY!" the girl squealed jumping up and down and the boys gave each other high fives.

"So you agreed then?" a beautiful woman with bushy hair asked. She was standing next to a tall lanky red-haired man. There was a bushy red-haired girl standing at her side and brown haired boy. She had a large tray in her hands and the kids were carrying bowls of something. Behind her, coming up the garden path, was a plump red haired woman with another tray in her hands and following her was another tall lanky red head who had lost all of his hair on the crown of his head.

"Did I have a choice?" Harry chuckled.

"No," the woman grinned and turned to set down the tray on the table.

"Alright let me introduce everyone," Harry said and began pointing out various people as he introduced who everyone was. "...And these three are my pride and joy. This is Lily Luna Potter, Albus Severus Potter and James Sirius Potter."

"Alright then shall we eat?" Ginny asked as they all sat down. Everyone dug in to their food and except for the occasional exchange of pleasantries, it was relatively quiet. Once everyone was finished and Ginny and Hermione had taken everything back up to the house Gibbs pulled out the book.

"Who wants to read?"

"I would Jethro if you don't mind," Ginny announced smiling at the grey haired man.

Gibbs handed the book to Ginny and Lily came running over to her father. "Can I sit on your lap, Daddy?" she whispered loudly in his ear. Harry chuckled, but nodded and opened his arms so that his little girl could climb up onto his lap.

Ginny smiled at them and then opened the book to the correct page. "This chapter is called The Vanishing Glass."


End file.
